


You're Gonna Go Far Kid

by tenlittlecock_bites



Series: You're Gonna Go Far Kid [1]
Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: AH OT6, Fake AH Crew, M/M, OT6, Trans Character, Trans Male Character, Trans Michael
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-21
Updated: 2015-04-02
Packaged: 2018-03-18 22:48:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,905
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3586887
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tenlittlecock_bites/pseuds/tenlittlecock_bites
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Fake AH Crew is one of the most notoriously powerful crews in all of Los Santos. Their influence on both gang as well as civilian population is so powerful that the city (as well as much of its outskirts) has been nicknamed "Achievement City".</p><p>Michael Jones is caught in one of the worst times of his life, and when Geoff Ramsey gives him the offer of a lifetime, he can't help but say yes.</p><p>Besides, what has he got to lose?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first chaptered fic that I've attempting in a long time. There will be some triggering things later on, as well as (possible) smut.
> 
> I hope you like it. I'm not entirely sure how often I'll be able to update, but I will try my damn hardest to actually finish it.
> 
> Also, if you want to follow me on tumblr you can (tenlittlecock-bites)

Michael Jones was not having the best week. Or month. Or... well, his life had admittedly been pretty shitty up to this point. Currently, he was living alone in a shitty studio apartment that barely passed health and safety regulations, and was about to get _kicked out_ of aforementioned shitty apartment that barely passed health and safety regulations because on top of being two months behind on rent he was also unemployed.

So, long story short, Michael was desperate.

And that's how he ended up in the gas station convenience store a couple blocks away from his shitty apartment late on a Wednesday night, the gun that he had spent the rest of his money on hidden away in his pocket. He nearly flinched as the door let out a cheerful 'ding' at his entrance, nodding at the clerk as the young man, probably no older than 18 or 19, greeted him dully. 

Michael pretended to busy himself looking at some chips, waiting for the other customer to pay for what appeared to be beer and condoms and before taking their leave.

That's when Michael made his move.

In a surprisingly swift course of action, considering he was expecting himself to somehow slip and fall onto his face, he turned around to face the counter while pulling out his gun, pointing it at the clerk's chest. He knew fuck-all about shooting a gun, but the guy didn't know that, and Michael hoped that if it came down to it he could just shoot and only wound the guy. He didn't need murder on his conscience on top of armed robbery.

"Hands up!" Michael yelled, his heart slamming fast and hard inside his chest, his hands shaking slightly, causing him to grip the gun so tight that his knuckles turned white to attempt to stop them. "I want you to put all the money in the cash register in a bag where I can see it." Michael continued in a low tone, silently thanking his voice for not shaking and revealing how genuinely freaked out he was.

Michael watched the clerk like a hawk as the younger man dumped bills and coins into a plastic bag sitting on the counter. 

And that's when the door let out its mechanical 'ding'. Michael's entire body went rigid at the sound, and he turned his head, locking eyes with a tattooed, mustached man holding a gun much larger and more expensive than Michael's.

_I am so fucked._

The man looked slightly surprised to see Michael standing there, before shrugging and pointing the gun at the clerk with a confidence and ease that was completely inverse of Michael's tense, awkward stance with his own, revealing that he had been doing this sort of thing for a while.

 _I am_ so _fucked._

"You heard him. Money in the bag." The stranger said smoothly, his tired eyes calm as he carefully kept his gaze on the young clerk. The young man finished dropping the bills into the bag and held it out in a shaking hand towards Michael, his eyes locked on the gun still casually pointed in his direction.

Michael snatched the bag from his hand and Geoff grinned, "Thank you for your kind service." He said before gesturing for Michael to follow him. Michael hesitated briefly, before walking after the stranger outside of the building. He was probably going to get murdered or mugged, but if he stayed he'd probably get arrested. So, sort of a lose-lose situation for Michael.

The stranger led Michael through the streets for a few blocks before ducking into an alleyway with him, chuckling briefly before breaking out into loud, slightly hysterical-sounding laughter, holding his stomach and leaning back against the brick wall of the alley. In any other situation, Michael would have had to join it, sensing how infectious the laugh could be if one wasn't scared shitless about being killed.

"Ah man. You looked like you were going to shit your fucking pants!" The man gasped between laughter, and Michael felt his usual quick temper bubbling under the surface, his jaw clenching and his fist tightening around the handles of the bag full of money.

"I was attempting a fucking robbery!" He pointed out maliciously, "No shit I was fucking freaked out!" The moustachioed man wiped tears of mirth from his cheeks, sighing and shaking his head.

"Oh man. You're new at this aren't you?" He asked with a shit-eating grin, holding out a tattooed hand, "The name's Geoff Ramsey."

Michael felt the blood drain from his face, and his eyes snapped from the man's hand to his face. This stranger with the tired eyes, the almost comical mustache, and the infectious laugh was the most brutal, successful crew leader in all of Los Santos. His Crew had so much territory it had been nicknamed "Achievement City" due to their control and influence even on the civilian population.

"You're... you're fucking Geoff Ramsey." Michael said, unable to wrap his mind around the fact that he was still _alive_. Fucking hell, he had probably intruded on his territory. Oh man he was _so_ fucked.

"Just said that, kid. You know, the point of introducing yourself to someone is to tell them you're name back, not repeat things like a god damn parrot."

Michael mentally shook himself and swallowed hard before shaking Geoff's still outstretched hand, glad that his voice stayed level and had an allusion of calm as he said, "I'm Michael Jones."

"Well, Michael, how about you and I go out for a drink." Geoff suggested, turning and walking down towards the exit of the alleyway without waiting for a response, because _everyone_ in Achievement City knew that you didn't turn down a drink invitation from Geoff Ramsey.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is kind of just necessary filler stuff. I don't really have a specific update schedule I want to try and follow, so things will sort of be... sporadically updated.

The bar that Geoff lead Michael into was... different, to put it lightly. Its decor was relatively basic, the usual design for a cliche dive bar in the middle of a big city with a glowing red neon sign declaring the bar's name, Mod Powers, and an interior with a bar tucked into the corner. Booths lined the walls, surrounding a few pool and even poker tables. All in all, it was your basic, run-of-the-mill bar. What was different about it were the people. On one hand, some of the customers were the picturesque of the usual bar scene: businessmen avoiding their wives at home, some sleezy looking guys at the end of the bar with their eyes on any girls that came within a close vicinity to them (who all earned a vicious glare from the feisty red-headed bartender). In addition to them, though, were the patrons who consisted of the largest collection of criminals Michael had ever seen in a room together (not that he stuck around criminals that much, but a guy could assume). There were gang members, drug dealers, weapon manufacturers, some guy trying to sell Michael a kidney, some guy trying to _buy_ Michael's kidney...

"The bar closes in a few hours, then I'll introduce you to everyone." Geoff explained casually, breaking Michael out of his stupor and leading him to a booth, sitting him down with a warm, strong hand on his shoulder, "What's your poison?" He added before Michael could ask who the hell "everyone" pertained to.

"I.. uh... I'll just have a beer." Michael replied distractedly, still looking around the bar with a mixed expression of confusion and discomfort.

"Alllllrigt." Geoff dragged out the word before disappearing into the crowd, returning soon after and placing a beer on the table, "See you into a few hours kid, I've got some business to tend to. Don't leave. If anyone fucks with you Ryan will come save you." He then disappeared again, leaving Michael to wonder who the fuck Ryan was, and to continue to get more antsy as he sat there alone, wondering if anyone was actually going to try (and succeed) to fuck with him.

As Michael waited for closing time (his beer remaining untouched on the table, condensation soaking the napkin underneath it) his eyes scanned the bar crowd. He couldn't help his curiosity, especially in a place like this. A tall, scrawny guy that Michael automatically dubbed as "bird nose" piqued his interest as he wandered around the bar, talking to people and making loud squawking noises as he almost tripped over his feet several times, somehow managing to never spill one drop of alcohol. He seemed completely and totally harmless to Michael, unless he ended up tripping and poking someone in the eye with his nose, which is why he found it curious how most of the patrons of the bar avoided the young man like the plague.

"That's Ramsey's kid." The man in the booth behind Michael stated, obviously noticing the way Michael had been watching bird nose.

"He doesn't look old enough to have a kid." Michael replied skeptically, "Well, not that old of a kid anyways." 

The man shook his head, "Not his actual kid. He's just the one he protects the most, since he's just a hacker and is piss poor with a gun. One time some guy tried to hit on him and Ramsey nearly shot him." The stranger chuckled at that, "Never saw that guy again."

"Is that why everyone's avoiding him?" Michael asked, still unable to imagine the easy-going Geoff Ramsey he had interacted with so far threatening to shoot someone.... and instilling so much fear in him that he never even returned to this bar. The man shrugged before turning back to his own drink at Michael's question, leaving the younger man to keep watching bird nose curiously.

\- - -

Michael had been reading the label on his beer for what felt like the hundredth time, having gotten bored while watching the same group of guys play pool over and over again, when he heard a thump from the other side of the booth as someone sat down. He looked up to see bird nose sitting across from him, an easy smile on his face and a beer in his hand.

"Hello love." His accented voice was slurred slightly from influence of the alcohol Michael had seen him consuming throughout the evening.

"Hey." Michael replied curtly and cautiously, "I'm not selling you any of my kidneys if that's what you're here for." He adds as an afterthought.

The Brit laughed at that, shaking his head, "I don't want to buy your bloody kidney."

"Not if it's clean either?" Michael asked with a grin, finding it oddly easy to talk to this stranger, despite the fact that Geoff was oddly overprotective of him and would probably shoot Michael without a second thought if he stepped over the line, "I could give it to you in a dry cleaning bag if that helps."

The stranger gagged at that, shaking his head, "Disgusting." He choked as Michael started laughing. Jesus, he couldn't even remember the last time he had laughed, and here he was not even thirty seconds into a conversation that could get him on the bad side of the most notorious Crew leader in the state.

"I'm Michael."

"Nice to meet you Michael." The other man replied, the way he said Michael's name sounding oddly like _Micoo_ , "M'Gavin."

The two men continued to talk for a while, starting off with simple things like what video games they liked and somehow got onto the topic of Gavin's aversion to wet bread ( _it's just so gross, Micoo!_ ). As the night went on, Michael grew more and more flushed and anxious as Gavin got progressively drunker and started flirting with him openly, scooting around the curved part of the booth to sit thigh to thigh with Michael, his hand resting on his knee and roaming higher up as time went on.

Michael's head lifted as Geoff walked through the bar, shouting for people to get out because they were closing. He turned his gaze back to Gavin, waiting for him to get up and go, a bad feeling settling in the pit of his stomach as he just kept telling him a story about him and his friend Dan,his fingers rubbing at his thigh despite the fact that that his verbal flirting had stopped. Geoff was so going to shoot him.

"Gav, come on buddy." Geoff called from the bar to the Brit after all the customers had filed out and the bartenders disappeared into the back of the building. "Stop hitting on the new kid."

Gavin flashed Michael a smile and bounded over to the bar, nearly tripping over his own two feet again. The dread in Michael's stomach remained even as Geoff shot him an amused look at the dark blush on Michael's cheeks, not seeming at all angry. Michael stood to follow him, nervously examining the three new strangers also at the bar. The smaller man with scruffy brown hair and glasses looked relatively harmless, as did the man with the ginger beard and kind eyes. But the blonde man standing next to him was... intimidating at the least, and was built like a fucking dorito chip.

Geoff introduced him to each of the men, gesturing to each as he said their names, before resting his hands on the bar and leaning forward, "So, Michael, why did you think it was a fantastic fucking idea to rob a store by yourself with a shitty gun?" He asked, his smile taking what would have been insult away from the words.

"I.. uh.. I'm kind of desperate?" Michael replied.

"Desperate how?" Gavin asked, and Michael hesitated, but the kind look in the bearded man's, who had been introduced as Jack, eyes made him feel like it wasn't so bad to open up about just his financial situation, still omitting his entire back story. They didn't need to hear that. Hell, if it hadn't happened to him Michael wouldn't want to hear it either, "The company I was working for went bankrupt, and I'm almost three months behind on rent so my landlord is going to kick me out."

Geoff nodded, looking lost in thought, "You want to join our crew?" He asked, his tone of voice so casual that it could fit in with him just asking Michael if he wanted another beer, not for him to change his entire life by becoming a criminal.

To Michael's right, Ray had been drinking from a glass of water, but started choking on the liquid at Geoff's question, and Ryan started clapping him on the back, looking at the younger man with concern in his blue eyes.

Meanwhile, Michael's face has gone blank from shock, his mind barely registering Gavin's comment of, "I think you, like, short circuited him, Geoff." And the disapproving look Ryan was giving the older man now that Ray had stopped choking, wiping at his eyes.

"Geoff, he's just a kid." Ryan pointed out.

"He's older than Ray." Geoff replied smoothly, "With the right training--"

"With the right training he could still get himself killed!" Ryan interrupted hotly, "He wasn't sucked into this through family ties or forced by extenuating circumstances, he has a chance to put the whole store robbery thing behind him and live his life." Michael finally coming back to himself as he listened to the argument.

"I'll do it." He said before Geoff could argue back, all five of the men turning to face him in thinly veiled shock.

"Are you sure?" A voice asked. Michael had expected Ryan to be the one to ask this, but instead it was Jack, eyes and voice kind, "You can still get out now. We won't hold anything against you. You can still live your life."

Part of Michael wanted to point out that no, he couldn't live his life by walking away. He was poor, unemployed, about to become evicted, and had literally no one in his life to turn to. No friends, no family. Instead, he just shook his head at Jack and turned to Geoff, looking him straight in the eyes,

"I'm in."


	3. Chapter 3

"This is going to be a small job. Only three of us need to actually go in." Geoff informed the Crew as soon as their meeting had begun, not giving anyone else time to chime in before he continued, "Gavin is going to stay behind, see if he can hack into the street cameras on the block to keep an eye on things. Ryan, you're coming in the house with me, and Jack you're manning out getaway vehicle. And of course Ray is going to provide sniper coverage from the roof of the house across the street." He punctuated each command by jabbing a finger at different places on the topographical map of the neighborhood their current target, a man going by the name of "Mark Nutt", was holed up at.

"What about me?" Michael asked. Part of him hoped that he would be staying behind with Gavin, but the other part (while telling him not to be a little bitch) wanted to go badly. He had been getting trained by Ryan, Geoff, Jack, and (very briefly) Ray for several weeks now and he didn't want that time to go to waste. 

While his training was going on he was also getting accustomed to the crew, having moved into their loft space above the bar.

"Jack totally remodeled this place after we moved in. If he weren't a hardened criminal he could go into interior design or architecture or something. He turned this shit hole into an actual livable environment." Ray had told Michael as he and Jack gave him a tour of their main home (as they had several safe houses scattered about the city, and any surrounding suburbs), causing the bearded man to blush and dismiss the compliment with a sheepish smile.

"Well," Geoff began, pointedly not looking at Ryan's warning look, "We _do_ need a third man to go in with us."

"Geoff, no." Ryan protested instantly. A combination of fear and excitement filled Michael's chest, making his heart feel like it was either going to explode or jump out of his throat.

"He's damn good with hand to hand combat, Ryan." Geoff argued back, glaring at the other man, "Almost better than both of us combined, and we need someone like that in such close quarters."

"And if he gets shot?"

"Our safe house is three blocks away."

"Geoff--"

"Can I have a say in this?" Michael demanded, interrupting both men as they turned to face him. He didn't know why the hell Ryan was so protective of him, but he didn't care about trying to figure it out right then, "I want to go in." It was time to prove himself, to stop being just some guy who started living there rent-free. Michael wasn't a freeloader.

Ryan pursed his lips, then shrugged stiffly, blue eyes hard and cold, "I guess that settles it." He stated in a flat voice.

Geoff's lips twitched into a smile beneath his mustache as he clapped his hands together, "Fantastic. Let's get to work."

\- - -

Two days later, Michael was sitting in the passenger seat of their getaway vehicle with Jack while the others prepped for the attack on Nutt, muscles tensed to the point where it looked like if someone even breathed too close to him he'd snap like a guitar string.

"You ok?" Jack asked, the others standing outside the car, cleaning their weapons. Gavin remained back at the house for surveillance purposes. He also wasn't very good in the field for stealth missions, or so Michael had been told by Geoff, but Ray had made some comment about how Geoff didn't want his boy toy getting damaged, and Michael honestly wasn't sure if he had been kidding or not.

"Yeah I'm just..."

"Scared?"

"Shitless."

Jack chuckled at that and placed a warm hand on Michael's knee, squeezing reassuringly, "Geoff and Ryan wouldn't let anything happen to you." He assured him, before letting go as the door was pulled open by Ray.

"If you two are done making out now we've got an asshole to take out." He said with an easy grin that _almost_ masked how nervous he was. Michael wasn't sure if he was reassured or not by the fact that even someone who had been doing this for a long while was also on edge.

Michael stepped out of the car and took the gun Ryan held out to him, checking that the safety was on (a habit the older man had drilled into him repeatedly during their training) before placing it in the holster on his hip.

All five men switched the mics on on their earpieces, testing the sound and confirming with each other and Gavin that each one worked.

Ryan placed a hand on Ray's shoulder, giving him a nod before watching him walk off into the shadows, his expression kept carefully blank. As soon as he confirmed that he was in position, it was time.

Geoff, Ryan, and Michael pulled up their hoods, remaining in the shadows as much as possible as they neared the house, not wanting to trigger the suspicions of the neighbors.

"How many are on watch Gavin?" Ryan asked lowly, eyes scanning their perimeter with practiced precision as they hid behind an expanse of waist-high hedges.

"One bloke is outside the front door, and the other just went around the back of the house. You should have a few minutes to get in."

"Ray?" Geoff asked, and after a short pause he responded.

"Guy by the door is dead."

Geoff turned to the two men beside him before nodding to Ryan, who lead the way to the house. Thankfully, the curtains were closed, and Geoff and Michael stood on either side of the doorway as Ryan raised his rifle, shooting out the lock on the door.

After that, the events in Michael's memory were a blur of confused shouting and gunfire as the three of them burst into the house. While ducking behind a dining room chair to dodge a bullet fired in his direction, Michael spotted Mark Nutt escaping from the back door.

"He's getting away!" He yelled, not giving Ryan or Geoff a chance to react before he was sprinting out the door after the target.

The backyard was a large expanse of grass that disappeared into darkness, which is why Michael wasn't expecting that, when he tackled the man in front of him, it would take them several moments to hit the ground that had suddenly began sloping downward, the hill leading down to a stream weaving through an expanse of trees.

The two men practically bounced down the hill, landing halfway in the water of the stream, the impact knocking the breath out of Michael and the cold water chilling him to his very core. He gasped for air, pushing himself onto his hands and knees before stumbling to his feet, reaching for his gun and cursing as his hand found an empty holster instead of the cold metal of the gun. It had to have fallen out when he and Mark had rolled down the hill. Fuck.

And now, he was standing in front of a professional killer who was pointing a gun at him, completely unarmed.

Michael's mind went into overdrive as he struggled to figure out how to disarm the man without getting himself shot, but he was coming up blank. Any maneuver he could do would be useless if he wasn't fast enough to somehow dodge a fucking bullet at point-blank range.

In the end, though, it didn't even matter. As footsteps sounded behind him from the hill, Mark Nutt panicked and squeezed the trigger, the bang of the gunshot echoing throughout the area. And then all Michael felt was an intense, burning pain.

He briefly remembered falling, the distant sound of Geoff screaming profanities at Nutt echoing in his mind before he blacked out. 

When he came to, he was instantly in blinding pain again due to someone pressing down on his wound to staunch the bleeding, causing him to shout out a curse before blacking out again at the searing pain shooting through his shoulder.

The next time Michael came to was less painful, and less sudden. He drifted into consciousness as he felt a cool, fresh breeze on his face. Warm, strong arms carried him and provided a steady contrast to the cold outside air.

"Set him on the table." Jack told the man carrying Michael, who he soon identified as Ryan as he was set down on the wooden surface. Jack could have also gone into something medical if he weren't a criminal, Michael mused.

"Gavin, get me something to cut his shirt open."

Michael's head snapped up at that, his face draining of whatever color it had left. "No!" He yelled, causing the other five men in the room to flinch at the sudden outburst, but Michael couldn't bring himself to care.

"It's the only way to get to the wound, Michael." Jack pointed out calmly, as if he was trying to soothe a startled animal. "We at least have to get the bullet out."

Michael's eyes flickered around to each of his crewmates, all of them wearing the same look of genuine concern. But no, Michael couldn't let them know. What would they think? He couldn't stand them treating him differently because of... that. He couldn't lose anyone else...

He looked up at Jack then, the pain in his shoulder becoming unbearable again the one thing causing him to cave. "Only you." He choked out, letting his head fall back against the table. "Everyone else... out." He whispered, eyes fluttering shut.

Jack nodded firmly and ordered everyone to get out, ignoring Geoff's protest of, "I'm the fucking boss you can't kick me out!" Before closing the door behind them all.

Silently, he prepared what he would need to fix Michael's wound, before picking up the scissors and beginning to cut through the fabric of the younger man's shirt. 

Michael's breath hitched as Jack's eyes widened after removing the bloody fabric, the pale expanse of skin on his torso being cut off by the black fabric of his binder, the shoulder soaked through with blood. Michael's explanation died on his lips as his panic hitched, terrified of what the older man would think of him now. Meanwhile, Jack was only able to utter one word through his surprise at the sudden turn of events.

"Oh."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So.... surprise! Trans Michael! I'm going to edit the tags in a few days since I want to keep it a... surprise (?) Plot point.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jesus Christ sorry this took so long for me to post I'm trash I know.
> 
> Special shout out to Chu (glackedandmullered) for helping me out with what would have ended up a really shitty chapter without her help <33

Michael woke up in a daze the next morning, staring up at the blurry ceiling as the pain in his injured shoulder grew steadily stronger, until he was forced to get up to try and find some painkillers, hand grasping blindly at the nightstand before he located his glasses.

"This would be a lot simpler if I could just go out shirtless." Michael grumbled. He spotted some clothes folded neatly at the foot of the bed, which had surprisingly stayed put throughout the night. Michael tended to move around quite a bit while he slept.

With a sudden realization of slight horror, Michael realized Jack had had to cut through his binder to get to his shoulder. Which meant he was screwed.

"Fuck fuck fuck no." He whispered to himself, rushing to his dresser and yanking out the top drawer, knowing that he still had an ace bandage somewhere in there. His face went blank with surprise at the sight of a brand new binder sitting on top of his clothes, a yellow sticky note stuck on top of it with Jack's chicken scratch scribbled onto it.

 _I had this express ordered. No more ace bandages, Michael._ it read, with a small heart doodled in the corner of the note, a sentiment in which Michael couldn't help but smile at.

Turns out, getting a new binder on (while difficult in itself) sucked major dick while you had a bullet wound in your shoulder.

Somehow, through a lot of swearing and teeth grinding, Michael managed to get dressed, walking down the hall a moment later to the kitchen, where Jack was preparing coffee for everyone.

Michael froze in his tracks, and the two men locked eyes before Jack gave a friendly smile, "Good morning, Michael."

Michael felt himself relax and returned Jack's smile warily, "Good morning, Jack."

\- - - 

"Peach why." Ray said in despair, his words drowned out by Michael cursing loudly at the tv as he fell off the map again.

"I'm sucking worse than Ryan today!" He complained as he finished in 10th place, "And he didn't even know how to drift until today."

"You guys never told me how!" Ryan replied.

"Hey Ryan?" Gavin suddenly asked out of the blue, and both Michael and Ray groaned.

"Yes Gavin?"

"Would you rather have sex with a girl with a nob or a guy with a muff?" Gavin asked, and Michael tensed all over, looking over at the blonde man.

"I don't think it would matter either way." Ryan replied smoothly, "I'm not in it just for the... genitals."

"I think it would be right weird though." Gavin argued, Michael's hands gripping his controller tight as the Brit continued, Ray giving him a confused and concerned look. "If a guy had a vag. It'd be like two girls--" Gavin cut off with a scream as Michael suddenly launched himself in the his direction, anger boiling deep in his chest.

He was practically growling as he threw himself forward but, before he could even get close, a hand shot out and stopped him, grip firm around his wrist. It was Geoff’s face, full of shock and anger, that met his gaze as he whipped his head around to see what had grabbed him. He could do nothing to stop the momentum as he was dragged away from the couch, away from Gavin and his incessant squawking, down the hall to one of the bedrooms. The door slammed shut with an echoing thud and his wrist was released sending him staggering into the room. 

If he weren't so pissed off, Michael would have been terrified of the look of pure outrage on Geoff's face.

"What the fuck was that Michael?" He asked in a low voice.

"Fucking Gavin is what that was!" Michael yelled, shaking with his fists clenched at his sides.

"I doubt this was because of him beating you at Mario Kart."

"Let me out, Geoff."

"Not until you tell me why the fuck you attacked Gavin."

"Let me out!"

" _No._ "

The two men glared at each other, before Michael exhaled harshly and sat down heavily on the edge of the bed, putting his head in his hands. "Did you hear his question?" He mumbled, his anger slowly draining away to exhaustion.

"Yes. It was pretty fucking ignorant. But you still tried to kill him."

Michael took a deep breath, looking anywhere he could besides Geoff. He felt as if he had swallowed a ton of bricks, his throat felt tight and there was a pressure on his chest that made it hard to breathe. What if Geoff kicked him out of the crew? He was going to go back to being homeless and alone, and he didn't know how he'd deal with that.

"I... he... fuck." Michael groaned and put his face back in his hands, his fingers gripping at his hair as he held back tears.

Michael felt the bed sink down beside him and a moment later Geoff's arm was around his shoulder, somehow both alleviating Michael's anxiety while also making it worse. 

"What's going on, Michael?" Geoff asked softly.

"I'm a guy with a vag." Michael blurted out, before closing his eyes tight, his hands balled into tight fists on his thighs, his shoulders shaking.

Geoff was silent for a long time before saying, "I... alright. I'll tell Gavin not to be an ignorant prick anymore."

Michael opened his eyes, looking at Geoff with panic in his eyes, "Don't tell him. Please. You and Jack already know and I can't--"

"Hey hey, calm down buddy. I'll won't tell him." Geoff assured him, rubbing his back soothingly. Michael nodded and took a shaky breath before leaning against Geoff's side, exhaustion weighing him down.

"Thanks Geoff..." He mumbled.

\- - -

Michael was drunk. That much was clear as he pushed open the sliding glass door to the porch, where Ryan was sitting in solitude, cleaning his gun. Michael had thought the man was pretty attractive from the first moment he saw him, with his long blond hair (who didn't love a man bun?) and the fact that he was built like a dorito chip. But that wasn't why Michael had gone to him... This time.

Anyone could see that Ryan was the most... self-destructive of the Crew. Always throwing himself into danger without a second thought for his own safety. Ray had nearly killed him when he had taken a knife in the leg for him.

"Ryan." Michael said firmly as he sat in the lawn chair across from the older man, "I want to go on a heist."

Ryan raised an eyebrow at Michael, setting his gun down slowly, "Alright." He replied calmly, "And how do you intend on doing that?"

Michael shrugged, "Fuck if I know. There's convenience stores all over the fucking place in downtown Los Santos."

"Isn't mindlessly robbing a convenience store how you got into this whole mess in the first place?" Ryan asked skeptically, resuming in his actions of putting his gun back together.

"That's not the point Ry-an." Michael snapped, "Can you just.. fuck come with me please?" He begged, "I can't drive like this."

" _Driving_ is your main concern here?" Ryan asked incredulously, laughing, "Jesus Christ, Michael."

Michael crossed his arms over his chest, "Are you coming or not?" He demanded, and Ryan got to his feet, still chuckling a bit.

"Just one store. That's it."

Michael grinned, getting to his feet, "Just one store." He promised.

It turned out to be anything but.


	5. Chapter 5

Geoff was up and out of his chair as soon as the sound of tires on gravel met his ears, headlights illuminating the front window before switching off and turning the pane of glass dark again. He marched over to the door and threw it open, any lecture he had been planning to give on what the _fuck_ Ryan and Michael had been thinking dying instantly on his lips as his eyes took in the state the two men were in.

They were both covered in ash and soot, Ryan's face paint smeared and blood staining his cheek from a gash just beneath his eye, but otherwise he was unharmed. But Michael...

Michael was cradled in Ryan's arms, barely conscious and mumbling incoherently, his arm and waist burnt pretty fucking terribly, his shirt roasted clean through. Geoff blanched, his mind barely registering Ryan's rapid apologizing and explaining as he stared in thinly veiled horror at their newest crew member.

"Jack." Geoff choked out, then turned and ran down the hall, getting the bearded man from his bed (who asked no questions at the panicked look on his boss' face).

"Oh no." Jack said as soon as he saw Michael, then went into action, telling Ryan to put Michael on the table before grabbing the first aid kit they kept in the kitchen in case Gavin ever set himself on fire or something.

"Ryan, what happened to him?" Geoff asked, turning away from Michael and Jack.

"We got sloppy at the convenience store. Clerk managed to push the fucking button... fucking hell Geoff so many damn cops showed up. I tried... I tried to get us out of there, and I almost did but-- the flare gun. Someone shot a flare _directly at us_." Ryan rambled and, Geoff realized with a sick feeling in his gut, that he was _shaking_.

"What's going on?" Ray's voice asked from the hall, his footsteps stopping as his gaze landed on Michael. "Holy shit." He then turned to Ryan, who was staring at the injured lad with a look of utter distress, before walking over to him and wrapping his arms around his waist. Ryan sagged at the contact and held Ray tight, his face burying against his hair, looking so god damn _vulnerable_ that both Geoff and Jack exchanged looks of concern.

Geoff's attention was instantly back on Michael as the younger man let out a pained groan, clearly coming back to a more coherent consciousness. His fingers clawed weakly at the table, and Geoff reached down, taking the lad's hand in his own, his thumb brushing soothingly over the soft skin as Jack started tending to the wound on his arm.

Geoff looked up as Ray and Ryan quietly left the room, Ray's arm around Ryan's waist, the larger man still with a hanging head and shoulders slumped.

\- - -

Ryan sunk down willingly to sit on Ray's bed as the lad pushed at his chest, before disappearing into the bathroom across the hall to grab the first aid kit. It was a good thing Jack had insisted on putting one of the damn things into every single common room in the house.

Ray re-entered the room a few moments later, carrying the little red box with a white cross in the center of it, pulling the chair over from his desk and plopping down onto it, sitting directly in front of Ryan. The man stayed as still as possible as Ray cleaned the wound on his cheek and covered it with a bandage.

"You're still beating yourself up over this, I can tell." Ray said softly after a long stretch of silence, making himself busy by rearranging the contents of the first aid kit. He was never good at serious conversations, and would always tend to fidget and avoid eye contact during them. Ryan had noticed this. He noticed everything Ray did, and always committed it to memory.

Always.

"Because it's my fault. If I hadn't fucked up and actually gotten us away--"

"Fuck, Ryan. You're not invincible. Or perfect. We all make mistakes, Christ." Ray replied, finally looking at the older man now, "You got him out alive."

"Barely." Ryan muttered bitterly, and Ray rolled his eyes before grabbing onto the front of Ryan's jacket, gazing fiercely into his eyes, which really caught Ryan's attention.

"You have saved our asses time and time again. You're allowed to have a slip up. Nobody died, so stop being an idiot about it." The words were as harsh as they were comforting, but Ray's voice was soft as he said them.

Ryan nodded morosely in reply, suddenly very aware of their close proximity and, by the way his lips were parted and his cheeks were flushed, he knew Ray was too.

He reached forward slowly, his hand cupping Ray's cheek, thumb hooked underneath his jaw. With a gentle pressure, he lifted the younger man's chin, leaning forward and softly fitting their lips together, something he had been wanting to do for a very long time now.

\- - -

Michael was thoroughly exhausted from the events of the night, the combination of staying up for almost 24 hours now and the fact that he had gotten injured while running from the police taking one hell of a toll on him.

He was slumped against Geoff on his good side as Jack bandaged up his side and arm, drifting in and out of focus, only being pulled back sharply if a bandage pressed against the wound wrong or Jack had to move him slightly, only allowing himself to hiss from behind clenched teeth or flinch a little bit. Geoff noticed each time, scolding Jack to be more careful _every single time_ it happened, and Jack prided himself on being patient, but after Geoff just wouldn't shut up, he told the man to either shut up and help, or get out.

"Hey, he's just worried." Michael said, voice drowsy and weak, causing Jack to look momentarily shocked before smiling fondly at the younger man, Geoff grinning like a kid on Christmas morning and cupping Michael's cheek, trying to spur him on to talk more, but the lad was simply too tired, just giving the mustachioed man a tired smile before letting his head fall onto his shoulder, drifting out of focus again as Jack finished bandaging him up with soft hands and careful movements, Geoff's hand squeezing the younger man's reassuringly as he finished.

"You think you can make it to a bed?" Geoff asked before looking down and discovering that Michael had already drifted off to sleep. A fond look formed on the older man's face as he took in the lad's softened features.

Both Jack and Geoff helped transport him into his room, tucking him into bed and walking out, silently closing the door behind them.

Geoff caught the smug look Jack was giving him out of the corner of his eye as they ventured back out to the main part of the house, the same slightly frustrating look the bearded man would give him whenever Geoff spotted someone at the bar he was interested in.

"What?" He asked as he sat down heavily onto the couch, and Jack just looked even more smug before shaking his head.

"Nothing." He replied simply before walking back down the hallway to his room.

It wasn't until several moments after Jack had closed his door that it really hit Geoff.

_Oh no._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Raywood confirmed.
> 
> Sorry this took so long to get out, I just had a hectic week plus writers block is a biiitch.
> 
> The news about Ray came as (sort of) a shock, and I'm going to miss him in Let's Plays, but ot6 will live on forever in my heart. Or Raywood, Raychael, Raycheoff, etc.


End file.
